TITLE: Shimmy
AUTHOR: Skylarking
EMAIL: kirstenpatrick@hotmail.com
DISTRIBUTION: Anywhere, and archiving is okay, too
RATING: MA
SPOILERS: No
SUMMARY: Skinner sends Mulder undercover, though not very much of it...
DISCLAIMER: Fox Mulder and Dana Scully belong to Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen
Productions and 20th Century FOX Broadcasting. So do Skinner, Byers, Langly,
and Frohike. No copyright infringement is intended. Ed, Treat, Rachel
Conroy, Anna, and the rest are mine, for better or worse.
Hugs and Kisses to my beta readers: Trick (who wears my ring and has to put
up with my madness), Corey (who can shimmy with the best of them), and Vince
(who has way too much time on his hands).
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Mulder was irritated. "Scully, don't you dare say a word. I mean it! Just
hold your tongue."
Scully bit her lower lip and shook with silent laughter. They had just left
Skinner's office after being briefed on a new case, and Scully was so amused
she couldn't contain herself. "Mulder, this could open up a whole new world
of possibilities for you - a career that would take you beyond the dank
basement of the FBI. Just think of the opportunities..."
"Scully, really, I don't want to hear it. I don't want to talk about it,
and Skinner can't make me do it!" He was never going to live this down. He
and Scully weren't the only agents on this case, but he had been selected to
be the bait. A suspected serial killer, possibly of the rare, elusive,
female type, was preying on amateur exotic male dancers, and Mulder fit the
physical profile. Hell, Skinner could barely keep a professional demeanor
when presenting the facts to them. He was sure every FBI branch office on
the east coast was joking about it - "Spooky" Mulder was going to gyrate in
a cage for a prize of a $50 bar tab, and hopefully lure a psycho into the
open.
********************************************************************
"Now, what are we doing here?" Langly looked bemusedly at the disco ball
above the dance floor.
"I told you already - research." Mulder sighed, exasperated. He had few
clues as to what was expected of him. Ed, the owner of The Shimmy Hut,
advised him to get out to some nightclubs and watch the crowds for moves he
could use, and make sure he was convincing. Treat, the lead dancer from the
house troupe, had been more helpful, offering an hourlong lesson for $60.
Mulder had opted for the clubs and enlisted to Lone Gunmen to go with him,
since he couldn't take any more of Scully's smirks, chuckles, and all-out
guffaws. As much as he enjoyed seeing Scully smile, it was grating on his
nerves.
"Should we watch the girls or the guys?" Frohike was concerned. "'cause I
know which I'd rather investigate." He wiggled his eyebrows.
Byers scanned the crowd. "It seems your fashion sense is more important
than your I.D. here. These people seem awfully young."
Mulder sighed again. It was going to be a long night.
********************************************************************
11 a.m. on a Monday morning, and Mulder hadn't arrived at the office yet.
Scully glanced at the clock, then went back to some minor paperwork. She
wondered if Mulder had reconsidered meeting with Treat the dancer. Dana
knew the Lone Gunmen's version of their club-hopping exploits, and she
wanted more dirt. When the door swung open, she practically jumped at him
with question.
"Soooooo, how was your weekend, Mulder?"
"Quiet. I was just a homebody. Rented some movies, ordered in Chinese,
that sort of thing." Mulder gave her a hopeful stare, seeing if she bought
the line.
"Nice try. Quiet wasn't how Frohike tells it. He's e-mailed me three times
this morning already. You hit two different dance clubs Friday and a few
more on Saturday without your freaky entourage."
"The posse boys were NOT helpful. I had to ditch them. After Byers got a
date with a 19-year-old, and Langly started a fight over old Atari games and
got us thrown out, I had no choice. I wasn't about to hang out with just
Frohike AND watch guys dance. I did see some good moves, only I had no idea
how to recreate them." He stopped talking when he noticed Scully's mirthful
expression. "You know, you are not helping either. At least Treat was kind
to me."
"Oh, so you did get professional help?" Scully couldn't resist egging him
on.
"Well, I'm ready for tonight, if that's what you mean. As ready as I'll
ever be. I even have a costume."
Scully's eyebrows nearly shot off her head they went up so fast. "Really?
One of those g-string thingies with velcro sides for quick removal?"
Now it was Mulder's turn to be surprised. "How much do you know about
those? I do have, uh, um, g-string undies, but hopefully it won't come to
that. The competitors only have to stay up as long as audience reaction is
positive. Having never done anything remotely like this before, I doubt
I'll stay very long. At least, that would coincide with the victim's
profiles as well."
"Mulder, are you waffling on telling me what you're wearing? Remember, I'll
be there."
"Probably with a camera, too."
"The Lone Gunmen are loaning me a digital. Come on Mulder, what kind of
fantasy are you dressing to fill?"
*********************************************************************
Mulder studied the lighted, full-length backstage mirror. He did think he
looked hot, but would anyone else? And would he be able to dance? He had
decided on a bullfighters costume, since it conveyed a macho image, yet was
shiny and caught the light well. The black and gold satin breechers hugged
his legs and ass closer than any pair of jeans he had ever worn. The
decorative buttons that ran down the side seams also hid the velcro that
allow for quick removal, if he lasted on stage that long. The short jacket
was beaded and embroidered, embellished with green and gold stones against
the black background. His shirt was merely a false front, destined to be
removed in his opening moves, vanishing to leave his abs and chest exposed.
Mulder was glad for his athletic physique now. He wasn't quite as defined
as the regulars here, but he had checked out the competition and knew he
rated high on the ripped scale in comparison. The final touch was his hat,
a black low circle crown with little hanging balls from the outer rim. Very
Hollywood western, but Treat had assured him it was necessary for the image.
Monday night had been the slowest for Ed's Shimmy Hut before it instituted
amateur men's dance night and started giving away office parties. Now
Mondays drew a crowd. Mulder peeked across the stage at the number of women
there already. Lots of power suits and briefcases, attesting to the draw of
the office parties, but there was plenty of casual clothing, too. He spied
what looked like a softball team at the table near the front.
"We draw all kinds." Treat was beside him. "On any given night, the crowd
is a good mix, but Mondays do seem the best for variety. I bet we'll even
get a bachelorette party or two tonight, if you're into horny
bridesmaids..."
Mulder winced. "I think I'll pass. I am under the watchful eyes of my
coworkers." That, and he knew Scully and several other female agents were
posing as such in order to mingle with the crowd. Agent Rachel Conroy, who
had a good field record and actually was engaged, was posing as the bride.
Scully and six others were circulating with her. A few agents were in the
crowd, some looked like employees, and most were strategically positioned
outside. None of this helped Mulder's ego. He wondered how he had fallen
so low on Skinner's shit list. This had to be revenge for something.
The light dimmed, the spotlights began sweeping the stage, and the disco
electronica music began thumping away. "Ladies and more ladies, Ed's Shimmy
Hut is proud to present..."
Mulder retreated backstage and assumed his place in line. He was third from
last in a group of eleven. Treat and his professionals would warm up the
crowd, then the hopefuls would parade on as a group and strike a pose while
being introduced. Surrounding Mulder was a fireman and a Zoot-suited
hipster. A quick scan of the line revealed a cowboy, a samurai, and one guy
in a kilt. The rest weren't dressed "costumey" like he was, just normally,
like they had lost a bet or something. After introductions, they would slip
backstage to enter one at a time and last as long as audience reaction
dictated. Treat would signal the next, and he and Ed would pass final
judgement.
Mulder felt his stomach drop, at least halfway to Hong Kong from the length
of the sensation. His nerves were failing him. If he hadn't already lost
his stomach, he would have Gila monsters in it instead of butterflies.
Abruptly he was jolted from behind. It was time to go on, and the fireman
was antsy.
Mulder managed to make it onstage, then froze. His senses were in overload,
and he couldn't focus on his surroundings. Ed's voice came through the din,
busking like a carnival barker selling wares to a very receptive customer
base. Mulder tried to focus his eyes and realized to his delight the spots
and stagelamps made it impossible for him to see the audience. Thank
someone, somewhere for small favors. He looked at the others on stage with
him and observed a mixed lot: some were striking poses with a bodybuilder's
flair and eliciting audience favor already; some were attempting small dance
moves and hip swivels; one misguided chump was moving slowly and
deliberately, like he was doing Tai Chi or recreating a Jackie Chan movie in
super slow motion.
Mulder decided to strike a pose in keeping with his outfit. He strutted
forward a bit like a peacock, held his head high, thrust his chest out, and
tightened his butt-muscles, hoping for definition in his second skin
trousers. "Good work," hissed the dancer next to him, one of Treat's
friends. "You've got to show confidence. Project confidence and you'll do
well."
That was it! Mulder recognized that advice from his high school drama coach
and his college public speaking course. It would come in handy here, too.
Mulder hoped it was enough to get him through the evening.
**********************************************************************
Scully was having fun. True, she was on assignment, and she, Rachel, and
the others were alert to the crowd and the environment, but she hadn't been
on a girl's night out like this in years. And part of being undercover was
blending in, right? It's not like they were pounding shots or chugging
beers or wearing condoms on their heads. They were professionals, their job
just happened to involve a huge amount of fun. Scully scanned the crowd
regularly to assuage the small nagging guilt she had remaining over enjoying
herself so much.
She vaguely wondered what Skinner's motivation was in insisting on having an
undercover dancer. Mulder must have crossed him once too often and he felt
the need to reassert his power. Whatever the reason, she was glad to be
part of the case. She and the other agents had kept a lively conversation
going at the table, but Scully noticed the others scanning the patrons
intently, too. With a twinge of jealousy, she also realized she wasn't the
only one who had brought a personal camera.
The lights decreased, the music increased, and the show began. The Shimmy
Hut's dancers were good, athletic, toned, and glistening. Scully was again
glad and very thankful to be part of this stakeout.
She could tell as the amateurs entered which ones the audience like at first
glance. The cowboy went over well, as did the guy in the kilt. One frat
boy type, with baggy jeans, a tee shirt, and a logger flannel shirt was
popular once he started gyrating his hips. Scully suspected he was a
ringer, then her mind froze as Mulder hesitantly walked onstage. She hadn't
been able to get out of him what he was going to wear and the sight dazzled
her. She was stunned. She'd always been a fan of men's legs, and Mulder's
looked scrumptious. The black satin hugged his lean, muscular, runner's
build with precision, and the gold trim down the length accentuated the
package. His little black patent ankle boots had cuban heels, pointy toes,
and two shiny buckles crossing in front. She couldn't see his butt yet, but
hoped she wouldn't lose it when he turned around.
"Would you look at that!" Anna, the agent to her left let out a low wolf
whistle. "Those are abs you could bounce a quarter off of." Scully
realized Anna was watching Mulder, too.
"I hadn't made it that far up yet," Scully mumbled. It struck her then that
Mulder wasn't really moving and she glanced at his face. He looked like a
poor cute little fluffy bunny rabbit in the halogen headlights of a
fat-tired Landrover. "Oh, he looks scared."
Rachel reminded them of their higher purpose, and when Scully looked back at
the stage, Mulder had changed positions, but without much verve yet. He was
warming up slowly, prancing a bit, and trying to look noble. Then the
dancers were ushered offstage so the fun could begin.
*********************************************************************
Mulder nearly collapsed backstage. He kept telling himself that it wasn't
that bad, he'd be able to do this. His nerves were calming down, which is
more than he could say for some of the others. They were a group of ten
now, the fireman having run offstage and out the backdoor to hurl in the
alley. Treat was giving them a pep talk, then all of a sudden he was on
deck to perform. Talk about missing time! Mulder felt like he'd just lost
40 minutes of it. He had hoped to study the others and steady his stomach
even more, but for the last seven contestants, his mind was a blank.
Finally something in him clicked, and he realized if he had to do this, he
may as well go all out.
Mulder's entrance was spectacular. He bounded onstage front and center, and
raised his arms above his head while slowly, methodically circling his hips.
He knew this raised his short jacket even more, offering a great view of
his midsection. He spun around, showcasing his butt in the same way,
twitching like a music video extra. With his back still turned, he ripped
away the faux shirt front, twirled it around his finger, and faced the
audience again. The cheering and applause was really stroking his ego. He
stretched his arms to the sides and shimmied his shoulders so his chest
thrust out of the green, gold, and black garmet, and basked in the catcalls.
Coyly, he closed his jacket across his chest and walked teasingly back
towards the curtain. Cries of frustration came from the audience. Did he
recognize the voice screaming "Shake that groovy body, Dreamboy!"? He
launched himself at the audience, going down on his knees and sliding to the
edge while removing his jacket. He swung it in large circles above his head
while thrusting his pelvis and grinning like a maniac. He never expected to
enjoy this so much. It was such a rush!
*********************************************************************
When Mulder finally left the stage, he found Skinner waiting for him
backstage. "Agent Mulder, is the FBI in danger of losing you to your
adoring fans?" he quipped.
"I think I'll withhold my resignation until after I find out if I won. Um,
what are you doing back here anyway? Aren't you supposed to be tracking a
suspect or something?"
"We got him an hour ago. He attacked the guy who went into the alley, the
fireman. We intervened, and when he spied a badge, he cracked. Started
confessing to everything. His prints matched, too."
"Sir, if you knew this before I started performing, why didn't you let me
know?"
"And upset the betting pool? I've got twenty bucks riding on you. It looks
like you're being called back to the stage for awards. I look forward to
reading your report."
*********************************************************************
It was over. Mulder still felt the euphoric rush of performance, not at all
disappointed over his consolation prize. All the others had left, but he
hung back, not wanting to run into his FBI coworkers, if any were still
hanging around. A knock on the dressing room door broke him out of his
reverie. As he looked up, Scully entered.
"Hey Mulder. You...ahh...you were great!" She grinned at him with a look
in her eyes he couldn't decipher.
"Thanks. Skinner already told me they got the guy. And it was a guy, too,
not a woman like some people suspected."
"Yep, just another disturbed, frustrated male. I'm sorry the guy in the
kilt beat you, Mulder."
"Hey, that's okay. Although you'd thing not wearing any skivvies would be
some sort of rule violation or disqualifiying measure." He paused and
watched Scully studying him.
"Mulder, you have great legs. And abs. And a cute, perky butt. And, oh
heck, everything about your physique should be celebrated."
"Uh...Thanks Scully." Mulder was suddenly very aware that he was dressed
only in his satin trousers. He also realized that Scully had closed and
locked the door behind her. He stood up. "Scully are you..."
Scully's lips closed over his, so he wasn't able to finish that question.
One of her hands snaked around his head and tangled its fingers in his hair.
The other was stroking his chest with a quick, soft, light touch, sending
shivers through to his spine. Her tongue was pressing into his mouth and
when he tried to break free, her teeth closed gently on his lower lip and
she sucked it lustily. "Scully, what are you doing?" he managed to gasp.
"Something I would have done a long time ago, if you didn't wear those
boring business suits all the time." The enormity of what she said sank
into his brain. His inner demons began a struggle between trying to
maintain a professional demeanor or succumbing to all the pent-up desire and
attraction he held for his partner.
"Geez Mulder, sometimes you really think too much." Scully was staring
directly in his eyes like she was reading his mind. She shoved him back
with one hand while holding the wristband of his trousers, causing him to
fall onto the tattered loveseat and the velcro sideseams to release. Mulder
was astonished. With almost no effort, Scully had left him wearing only his
black g-string, which was rapidly becoming too small. "Now let's see what
we can do about this," Scully said with a wink.
Her hand reached down for his undies. "No, Scully, they're not the quick
release kind!" But it was too late. A little tug and the string sides
snapped, and she threw them across the room. His cock was standing at
attention and his mind was agreeing with it. He made one last attempt at
stalling her, trying to make her think rationally. "But Scully, don't you
want our first time to be special? Filled with love and tenderness and,
well, maybe in a not-so-public place?"
She had removed her jeans and green floral panties, and knelt on the sofa
above him. He could feel the heat from between her thighs and knew
resistance was useless.
"Mulder...Fox...what's not special about this? And isn't memorable better
anyway?" She let herself down slowly, teasing him with skin-on-skin contact
between her snatch and his turgid manhood.
He surrendered utterly. Grabbing her narrow waist, he pulled her down,
easing himself inside her dripping wet tunnel of love. He heard her gasp,
then she began covering his neck with small, skillful kisses. His hands
travelled all over her back, finding her brassiere and releasing it so he
could feel her breasts swing against his chest. This was way better than
any $50 bar tab.
"Mulder...ohh...this...is...going...to be...quick..." Scully was riding him
with determination, twisting and writhing above him. It was a vision of
ecstasy to him, and he knew she was right. Her expression held nothing back
and her body went rigid in him arms, her thighs clamping his legs together
and a growl of pleasure coming from her throat. He met her growl and raised
her a breathless scream. All the rigidness left his body, and she collapsed
on him with a satisfied smile.
After a moment of silence, Mulder kissed her eyelids.
"Scully...Dana...would you like to come back to my place and have breakfast
with me?"
"Mulder, it's midnight." Scully eyed him quizzically.
"I can think of some ways to pass the time until then." He smiled at her,
his eyes filled with hope and wonder. Scully kissed the side of his nose
and just beamed.
Mulder tossed his unsalvagable g-string in the trash and dressed in his
regular clothes, sans undies. As they made their way to the exit, they
passed Treat. "I told you bridesmaids were the way to go," he said with a
smirk.